


Brooding

by NamparaMyHome (Cormelas)



Series: Betwixt [1]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: (1x01)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cormelas/pseuds/NamparaMyHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross was brooding.  Again.  How had someone so cavalier and full of mischievous spirit become such a miserable soul?  Then it hit him.  Elizabeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brooding

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by the estate of Winston Graham, various publishers including but not limited to Pan Macmillan and the BBC.
> 
> Notes: The story occurs between the scenes of the Poldark 2015 episodes as aired on the PBS US broadcasts, which are disappointingly shorter than the BBC episodes. I have not read the books, nor do I know what happens in future episodes when the B/TWS are written. My apologies for inaccuracies based on later canon.

Ross was brooding. Again. How had someone so cavalier and full of mischievous spirit become such a miserable soul? Then it hit him. Elizabeth. She had turned his homecoming into a damnation. He was damned to pain, damned to heartache, damned to loathing of both her and his own cousin.   Home was in ruins, his life was empty, and he had to fight for the continuance of his hollow existence, a fight he was rarely up to waging.

Circumstances required drastic action. He sold his father’s pocket watch in order to buy livestock. He walked around Truro on market day looking for anything to lift his mood. The children watching puppets were mildly amusing, but given the weight of his burdens, he strolled on.

And then he met her in the most horrid of spectacles. Her life was worse than his, tragically. She was beaten, she was hungry, she had no one, just a dirty, shaggy dog. But she had spirit, which was something Ross needed in his life. Elizabeth’s marriage to Francis had extinguished his, but his life and ramshackle “estate” needed rejuvenation. Demelza’s spirit would provide the spark that would feed the future. But Ross was not aware of that when he made the on-the-spot decision to offer her employment.

“I’m in need of a kitchen maid,” he said. Did he really? Wasn’t Prudie cooking for him? Ross shuddered at the thought of Prudie’s mutton and cabbage.

Demelza said there was also Garrick. “We be friends, sir. Where I go, he goes.” Ross nodded. He swung her back up on the horse, the dog springing at their heels as she sang sweetly to herself, almost a lull-a-bye. Six brothers! She must have sung many to sleep. At least she had decent pitch.   He needed someone else around the household to take his mind off of how much Prudie and Jud offended his sensibilities. This act of kindness was as much for him as it was a gesture to help Demelza.

Demelza had been in the Nampara kitchen for five days when Tom Carne showed up with a couple of mates. Ross had just had his heart torn asunder anew by Elizabeth Poldark. (And now _that_ realization stung!) The last thing he wanted was to deal with a father seeking to defend his daughter’s honor so he could take her home and thrash her bloody. Well if this scoundrel wanted a fight, Ross was going to take out his frustrations on a willing opponent.

The fight was lopsided one way and then the other, with Ross ultimately expelling his foe. Was any kitchen maid worth this? Was Demelza even a good kitchen maid? Ross was regretting his chivalry when he told Prudie that Demelza was “more trouble than she’s worth.” Prudie was thrilled to hear it. Demelza was not. Ross went in search of Demelza with a streak of blood on his temple and a roaring headache. He had been head-butted, punched and stomped. He hadn’t felt this awful since the war.

Demelza knew she could not stay. How could she be so much of a burden on someone who had been so kind to her? She walked away from the house with not a thing else to her name, Garrick not belonging to her but only wanting to be with her. When Ross caught up to them, she was singing again.

“What have you got to sing about?” Ross half-growled, half-scolded. She had been caught by surprise, expecting never to see his handsome face again.

Demelza recoiled. She had not seen clearly the beating her father had inflicted from her hiding spot on the cabinet. Looking at him now, she wanted to cry. His beautiful high-born face was bruised and colored in a brutish way. She was ashamed and saddened – it was her fault.

“I ‘eard it all, Sir,” Demelza squeaked. “Ye be punchin’ and thrashin’ and breakin’ pottery on account of me. I never meant to cause you such trouble. More than I be worth.” She waited for the scolding she was sure was to come.

“How?” was all Ross said. “Where were you that you could hear everything?”

“In the sideboard,” Demelza confessed.

Ross snorted to himself. _She’s a clever girl,_ he thought. _I’ll have to keep a closer eye on her._ “Then you heard what I said, which I did not really mean. The ringing in my head was more to blame for my words than your worth,” he said as she chewed her bottom lip and stared toward the sea.  Ross continued. “Now, I do not see you walking back to Illugan before sunset. Will you return to the house?”

“I can’t, sir, rightly, not after what `appened. My father will be back.” Demelza’s eyes filled with tears. “Maybe not tomorrow, but he would never let such a walloping be his alone. That be just the first row.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She wanted to be strong, but couldn’t hold herself together thinking of the beating Ross had endured, and those she had endured.

“He thinks I snatched you.” Ross looked away.

“Well that ain’t be true,” Demelza hiccupped.

“I know and you know, but what can be done to pacify him?”

Ross thought. And then he had an idea. “How about I write up a contract of employ? I engage you for services as a kitchen maid for a period of time, say, two years. The terms will be spelled out for all to see, and should there be any disagreement, you will have legal recourse.” Ross sounded more pleased by his plan with each successive sentence.

Demelza looked sheepishly. She did not understand the legalities or implications of what he was offering, but she trusted that he did.

“Two years of work for you. What do I get?”

“You’ll be fed, clothed, housed and your father will not have to spend a shilling. It will be very official. I promise. Do we have a deal?” Ross nodded his head demonstratively to convince her to do the same.

She agreed to come back with him. Not that she had any place else to go, but the mere fact that he had come after her stoked her internal fire. She wanted to serve Mr. Ross Poldark. She was beginning to take pride in the idea that she mattered, even if only a little, to her new master. Her master. A strange concept.   Not a fortnight ago she was in her father’s house, vowing to herself to never have another man wield any power over her again. But Mr. Ross was different. He was serious, but gentle in his manner of speech and quiet in his demeanor. Demelza was fascinated by him, by his house, by his land by the sea. She wanted to know more, see more, hear more and the only way to do that was to stay and serve. And that pleased her.

Pleased as she was, she was overjoyed when he pulled her up onto his horse to make the return journey to the house. The wind was blowing, and she was chilled in her inadequate attire. Sitting atop the horse provided warmth from below and from behind – Ross sat primly in the saddle behind her and she leaned slightly forward to avoid touching his torso with her back.

They rode in silence to the crossroads where Elizabeth was approaching on horseback. Was she now waiting for new opportunities to present themselves in which she could torture Ross more? Perhaps, Ross thought. Or perhaps she is just the devil come to claim him for escaping his clutches in Virginia.

“You’re making a mistake.” Elizabeth hissed.

“Am I?” Ross responded. What was she talking about? Bringing Demelza home?

“Your place is here; your land, your mines.” Elizabeth could still put on an impassioned plea. Her tone was too cloy for Ross’s comfort.

“Are you asking me to stay, Elizabeth?” he chortled slightly.

“I’m saying that everything that matters to you is in Cornwall.”

“Where did you think I was going?” Ross taunted.

“To London. Your uncle said ...” Ross interrupted her.

“My uncle is mistaken. “ Ross retorted. “Then what are you doing?” Elizabeth asked.

“I lost sight of something. I came in search of it. Having found it, I’m going home.” Demelza sunk lower in the saddle in front of him as she felt Ross’s spine straighten while speaking with Elizabeth. “ _This one is trouble_ ,” thought Demelza. And what could he be talking about having “found?” Could it be her? Had he actually come in search of her or was he talking about something else? Gentle folk were a mystery.

They rode on, along the cliffs, toward the mine entrance.

“What is that to you?” Demelza asked as they passed the long-dormant mine.

“My inheritance,” Ross said, the words tickling his tongue as they issued from his lips and prodding his mind. “My inheritance” echoed in his head like a vow.

Ross turned the horse up the rode and headed to Nampara. He wanted to be home and Nampara had not been a home to him in what felt like a lifetime. But he sensed that it stood no chance of ever being anything to him without the spirit that Demelza brought with her. That is what he had lost sight of - his spirit, the will to live his life on his terms without the “what might have been” with Elizabeth. And he needed the spark from Demelza to revive himself. Living alone would have meant further ruin to a man for whom there was nothing worth living for. Reclaiming his inheritance, providing work for miners and maids, living a life with an eye toward “what could be” was now possible. And without being conscious of it, what was possible for Ross was a “what could be” with Demelza.


End file.
